


Blindsided

by KendylGirl



Series: The Alchemy of Butterflies [12]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Love, M/M, Protective Armie, Self-Doubt, moderate angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 10:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18871789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendylGirl/pseuds/KendylGirl
Summary: When Tim is hit by an unexpected wave of disillusionment, Armie is equally thrown by the actions of his own nemesis, Brian.





	Blindsided

**Author's Note:**

> Tim’s penchant to judge himself harshly, his declaration of having no confidence, and his inability to “receive” a compliment from Emma Stone have led me to believe that, on occasion, internal pressure would overwhelm his faith in his own professional acumen. Then, when I saw a recent short clip of him ducking behind a hat while the rest of the room smiled and laughed, this piece began to form.
> 
> My thanks again to the guiding hand of Willowbrooke, who can find any light in the dark.

“Oh.You’re here.”

He hasn’t even taken the chain off the door.

“Yeah, I am.You gonna let me in?”

Brian has always reminded me of Sam the Eagle from the Muppets, and the glower he shoots me now is classic.He hesitates, and for a moment I think he’ll refuse.My blood surges. _Don’t make me kick the door down, asshole, because I will_.There’s no drug like adrenaline.

But then the door swishes shut and there’s a scraping noise before it swings wide and he steps aside.In three strides I’m in the middle of the room.It’s empty.

I got the call twelve hours ago, but Brian’s flat voice still rings in my ears.“Tim’s having a bit of difficulty here.”

Immediately, my face had felt numb.“What does that mean?Has something happened?Is he all right?”Accidents can happen on movie sets, especially if he’s doing some of his own stunts.Equipment breaks, charges misfire—that kind of thing.It had to be serious, or Tim’s agent never would have called me.

That’s because Brian has never liked me.Well, that’s not quite accurate—he _detests_ me.I was the creep who seduced the angel, the jackass who was married and made Timmy feel miserable and alone, the selfish prick who threatened Timmy’s image for my own gratification.I was, and forever would be, trouble.He has stared at me with his arms crossed, implacable as stone, every time we’ve crossed paths.Tim’s apologized up and down, and I’m sure he’s tried to talk to Brian on a number of occasions, but I’ve told him not to bother.The guy’s suspicious of everyone who comes within ten feet of Tim, and frankly, I don’t mind it.I don’t care if he treats me like shit; he looks out for Tim, and that’s all I really care about.

Brian had paused awkwardly.“He is…physically uninjured.But he’s experiencing a bit of…well, a bit of uncertainty at the moment.”

“ _What does that_ _mean_?”I repeated venomously.I had the phone pressed so hard to my face, I could barely move my lips.He’d woken me out of a dead sleep, and my head was spinning in the darkness of the bedroom.It didn’t help that I’d been sleeping with Tim’s hoodie on the pillow next to me, the only way I’d found to soothe my subconscious mind enough to rest, so it’s scent had filled my nostrils in a waft when I’d turned that direction, making my chest burn.“I just talked to him last night.He seemed fine.”

“I’m sure he did,” was the icy reply.“He doesn’t want to worry you.”

I leapt out of bed.“Is that supposed to be a dig? _Fuck_ you, man.Don’t you _dare_ play games with me, Brian, not about this!You tell me _right now_ what the fuck is going on.”

“I am trying to act in the best interest of my client.That is my only concern.”

“Is Tim there?Put him on the phone.”

“No, he’s gone back to the set.” 

“I’m calling him.”

“You cannot do that.He is _busy_.”The voice is brittle, crusted with derision.“And he is unlikely to tell you any more than he did yesterday, isn’t he?”

I'd rubbed my eyes, pushing the globs of frustration back into my skull.This guy’s being a bastard, but he’s probably right.It might be 4:00 a.m. here, but that means it’s not even lunchtime in Budapest.Tim won’t be back to his hotel for hours, whatever’s happening.

The phone crackles.“Look, I thought I was doing what was best for Tim.Clearly, I was mistaken.”

Three flat tones had bleeped in my ear.

The line was dead. 

 

The suite is quiet, and the rasp of my breath is loud in the dead acoustics.“Where is he?”

I whip around to the same crossed arms and a raised eyebrow.Brian crooks his head toward the bedroom door with a withering gaze that smoothly labels me an idiot.“I’ll thank you to keep your voice down.He doesn’t know I called you.”

“Why?Didn’t want to admit that you woke me up, scared the shit out of me, and then _hung up the goddamn phone_?”I’ve closed in on him before I even know what I’m doing.I don’t get truly angry very often.Pauline joked one time that it’s the secret clause in every giant’s contract with God—you get to _look_ like you can rip a man’s arms from their sockets, but you’re never allowed to get to the point of actually wanting to _do_ it. 

But I’ve spent ten hours traveling on two hours sleep, so torn up inside with worry that I haven’t eaten more than half a bagel at the airport.I paid a cabbie twenty extra Euros to get me here at speeds that would make a test pilot woozy, and I am in no mood for his bullshit condescension.My teeth are ground so tight together that my neck muscles feel like ripcords, and every inch of both my arms feels clenched into a fist.

Brian doesn’t budge, face as impassive as always, but I see a shadow pass his eyes that lets me know I need to reel it in fast.I step away, go over and toss my bag onto the sofa and grab a bottle of water from the desk.I down it in a single swallow.

“I’m going to get some dinner,” I hear from the entryway.“I’ll be back in two hours.”Then, the suite’s door sighs and snaps closed with a hollow click.

 

I push open the door of the bedroom with two fingers.

Timmy is in the middle of the enormous bed under the covers in what looks like his street clothes, propped up on a stack of pillows, earbuds in, scrolling through his phone.He even has a plain dark hat pulled down to his eyes.I lean against the door frame and watch him, smile creeping onto my face despite the circumstances.He’s been shooting here for weeks, and I have missed him a ridiculous amount, to say nothing of the fact that he is beyond adorable when he’s soft and sleepy and looks like a kid who snuck into his parent’s room when they’re away for the weekend.

It takes a few seconds before he looks up, and when he does, he freezes and just stares, mouth ajar as if he’d been about to speak and the words evaporated when his tongue met the air. _He’s not sure._ He can’t seem to tell if I’m really here.

“Hey, stranger,” I whisper, playful grin curling my lips up in earnest.

I expect him to smile and make a joke, to tease me about the reappearance of my tracksuit or the weird peacock thing I have going on with the hair on the top of my head.I figure he’ll want to order room service and talk about the bizarre costumes they’ve tried on him and the desert sand in Jordan and Momoa’s guitar playing.I want to fill him in about the family of cardinals which have made our towering white pine their home and how the tree’s yellow pollen is now caked on the patio bricks.I imagine myself confessing finally how I hold my phone for hours after we’ve talked, in a vain attempt to keep him close.

What I did not expect was for his face to collapse and for him to be immediately wracked by sobs.He starts to crawl out of the covers toward me, but I lunge forward and scoop him up before he can even get to the end of the bed.His hat tips off the back of his head and falls to the floor, and I just hold him tight to my chest and rock him back and forth, burying my face in his hair and murmuring to him words I can’t even recall, just waiting for him to get it out, waiting for him to come back to me.

_It’s all right._ _I’ll wait forever._

He shakes and snuffles, rubs his face against my shirt, pulling at my collar and makes small whimpering noises that drill holes in my heart.“I’m so glad you’re here.”He chokes down another sob.“I can’t do this, Armie.”

I massage the back of his neck and kiss his forehead.“Do what, Tim?What do you have to do?”

“This movie.I can’t…I…I’m not right for this part.I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?Of _course_ you’re right for it!”

“ _No!_ No, I’m _not_!”He shakes his head furiously, throwing his elongated curls out from his head in a dark fan.“I…I don’t have the presence, the…the _command_.I’m too—”

My blood is already percolating.“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”I lift his chin so he can look at me.His lips are swollen and he has a stream of saliva connecting them.I wipe away his tears, coating his lashes and sticking them together in bunches.“What’s happened, Timmy?Did Denis or one of the AD’s talk to you?Has some asshole been on your back?”

His eyes close.

I run my fingers through his hair a couple of times, brush his cheek with the backs of my fingers.“No, Timmy, please don’t hide from me.Please. _Talk_ to me.”

He opens his eyes, but he looks down at my chest.“No, they’ve been…they’ve been great so far.Happy with the dailies and…and willing to talk about character with me when some scenes didn’t feel quite right.” 

“Okay, okay, that’s good.”I let my hands fall to his thighs, legs bent in half as he sits back on his heels.I rub over the soft surface of his pants at his knees.“What about the rest of the cast?”

“Really kind and supportive.Good people, all of them.”Suddenly his mouth twists, and he grabs a handful of my shirt.“But this production is _massive_.I mean, it’s starting to make _Interstellar_ look mid-budget!It is _outrageous_ the set-up they’ve got!”

“I’ll bet.This film’s going to be huge.”

He jumps off the bed like I’ve electrocuted him.“But that’s just it!Do you know how much pressure that is?All of it—all of the time and the care and the fucking _money_ they’re spending on this??”He grabs his hair and pulls at it with tight fists.“I can’t be responsible for this!It can’t _all_ be on my shoulders!I don’t…I’m not…”His throat gurgles with frustration as he splutters, the words turning in on themselves.

“Tim, you were the lead in our film, in _Beautiful Boy_ , too, if we’re really being honest.Just because they had smaller budgets doesn’t mean you were any less critical to their success.”

He stops pacing and throws his arms out.“But no one knew who I was then!No one had any expectations for me at all, so the only thing I had to do was worry about my part.I could take risks, I could experiment.But now…”

“All you have to do _now_ is worry about your part, Tim.It’s no different.”

“But it is, Armie, it is!Can’t you see that?Everyone is waiting for this to fail, waiting for the whole thing to fucking _bomb_ and then everyone’s going to point at me as the cause.Because I suck and I never should’ve been cast and no one will ever want me again.”

“You were the only one they wanted for this part, Tim!You don’t think Denis knows what he’s doing?You think he’d risk putting his name to a high-profile project and then pick some hack for his _lead_ _role_?Come on!He knows how great you are. _Everyone_ knows how great you are!”

He barks a bitter laugh.“Not everyone, no.”He wipes his nose.“Sci-fi fans are hardcore.”

I wince.“Tell me you didn’t.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Tim, tell me you didn’t go online and start reading fan commentary.”

“Worse.”

My eyes widen, and I dig my fingers into the down duvet.

“Blind items.”

“Oh, Timmy, not that shit!”

He groans, “I know, I know.It was kind of an accident.I clicked on this story about Frank Herbert, and another link, and…I sort of ended up there, and…”His voice trails off, and he just stares at the floor.He doesn’t really need to finish.I can fill in the blanks.

“And those morons have got you this rattled?You know they’re all full of shit, right?No one goes on the internet to make _kind_ anonymous remarks.The people who write those things are just miserable fuckers who hate _everything_!”

“I know that.I’m not _stupid_.I _know_ that!”

“Then what’s really going on?”

He presses his lips together and stares at me pleadingly before he finally takes a deep breath.“So what if they’re harsh?They’re not wrong, Armie.It’s as simple as that.They. Are. Not. Wrong.I can’t do this.I am not a franchise actor, I’m not _bankable_ , I am not ‘leading man material.’”His fingers claw viciously at the air.“I’m—oh, what was that fabulous word? Oh, yes—fey.That’s right, I’m _fey_ , Armie.No one’s hanging an action franchise on a worthless, pale, skinny, _fey_  piece of shit from Hell’s Kitchen. _Nobody_.”

My chin drops to my sternum.My chest is so tight, it hurts to breathe.His words hurt, they physically hurt.His tragic opinion of the person I love most in the world _hurts_.If anyone else were to say those words to me, I would beat him bloody.When Tim says them, I want to die. 

Several moments pass before I am steady enough to speak.“Do you have any idea how lucky that makes you?”

He gapes at me like I’ve just ripped off my scalp and a stream of Skittles has spilled out.“Lucky?The fuck— _lucky_ because most people think I’m too weak and frail and feminine to _fake_ a man’s role? _Lucky_ because I’m in way over my head, and I’ll probably never work again?”He shakes his head with disgust and stalks away, and for a minute, I think he’s actually going to bail on me and leave altogether.But he rounds the bed and kicks the frame, turning his back on me to fume at the corner.

“Yeah, Tim, lucky.”I lean forward and rest my forearms on my knees, stare at the geometric pattern of the carpet.“Let’s play a game, shall we?Let’s say you look the part—you look like Captain America just got back from the gym, and because of that fact alone, people rave about how you’re gonna make it big.‘It’s your time, kid, it’s your time!’”What do you do when your only foothold caves in, again and again?How do you see yourself then?How do you handle the embarrassment and disappointment?”

He has pivoted back around, and I turn my head to meet his plaintive eyes.

“I’ll tell you:you branch out.You take a role unlike anything you’ve ever done.And you reinvent the _role_ to suit _you_.You force yourself to persevere until other people start to see you in a new way, until they can’t even picture you in the same suffocating shoe box they’d stuffed you into before.”

His expression is complicated, desperate and defiant, all at once.I see him swallow slowly.He understands exactly what I’m talking about.The rasp of my voice rips at the silence between us.

“You are terrified that you can’t pull it off, but a voice in the back of your head that you keep trying to ignore _screams_ at you that it’s all right, that you _can,_ so against your better judgment, you dive in.You push and try and push some more, and you reinvent yourself in the process.Through all the anxiety, through all the derision, you manage to create something beautiful.You fucking _do_ it!”

“Armie…”The sound is so small.I want to rush over to him and hug him tight, kiss his eyelids and rub the delicate skin behind his ears, but I stay where I am.I wait for him to knot the words to his emotions, to stitch together the fabric of his confidence where it’s worn and frayed.

My eyes are glued to his.“Take it from me—do _not_ give up on something like that, Tim.Opportunities of this kind are what we’ve entered this profession for.You’re going to reinvent this role.You’re going to make critics _and_ audiences rethink an entire fucking _genre_ by the time this is done, and you will never, ever regret it.”

A second before his tears fall again, he reaches out for me, and I’m gathering him up before the drop of water hits his cheek.He tries to literally climb up into my embrace, and we fall with an oof onto the bed.He lands on my lap facing me, and his hands rip and pull at my hair from all sides as his tongue pries my lips open.The kiss is hard and breathless, desperate and grateful, and I just loosen my jaw and let him guide me, let him take what he wants and leave nothing behind.

I gradually recline my back so that I’m laying on the mattress with my feet on the floor as Tim clings to my torso and lets his face fall into the crux of my neck.His knees dig into my ribs, and his mouth bites and kisses and mutters, “I love you,” waves of words pressed into the same small spot of my skin where his lips rest.It isn’t long before his body grows heavy and his breathing evens out, and I just keep rubbing his back in small circles, every subtle shift of his hips reminding me of exactly how badly I have missed him, missed touching him and surrendering to him, letting him own me as I know he will easily for the rest of my natural life.

I don’t know if I fall asleep or just unmoor, allow myself to float while I’m held in place by the perfect anchor of my other half.Eventually, though, I need to move, so I ease him over onto the mattress and take off his tennis shoes and jacket, then tuck him under the sheet.He’s pliant and agreeable until I start to pull away.“No, please don’t go.Please stay with me,” he murmurs, cool hand falling onto my wrist and curling around it. 

I raise it, kiss it, and position it carefully back onto the pillow.“I’ll be right back, I promise.Just going to pee and grab a granola bar.”

He hums and stays still, so I retreat quietly, pulling the bedroom door closed behind me.

“How’s he doing?”

The voice makes me jump.“What the hell are you doing over there?”

Brian is sitting in a high-back chair in the corner, legs crossed, face as blank as always.“I told you I’d be back in two hours.”

“So?”

“So the clock ran down on that an hour ago.”

“You spying on us or something?”

“If I were, I wouldn’t have to ask how Tim is, would I?”Droll to the last.

I start rooting through my carry-on bag to cover for the softening of my voice.“He’s doing much better.”I don’t want to give in, to give him the satisfaction of assurances, but I do it anyway.“I think he’ll be fine now, really.”

To my surprise, he hums and rubs his hands together, like it’s an approval.“I figured as much.”He rises and grabs his phone from the table next to him, clicking at the screen, ignoring me completely.

I have no desire to offer it, but I force myself to turn and face him.“Thank you for calling me.”

He glances up at me, right into my eyes, then looks back at his phone and taps out some more messages.I roll my eyes and start pulling items out of my bag in search of my toothbrush.

“Congratulations, by the way.”

I didn’t think he would mention the engagement.I look up sharply, but his face is neutral and relaxed.No irony detected.“Thank you.”

He slides the phone into his pocket, and his eyebrows move down slightly.“He tried to explain to me how it happened, but I’m not sure I really got it.”

I take a breath, but what am I supposed to say?Some things defy explanation.I shrug.“Pauline.”

That gets me an actual flicker ofa smile.“Ah.Somehow that makes it all make sense.”

I’m surprised to find myself huff a laugh and return the smile.“Yeah, if it’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to never underestimate an evil genius.Especially one that’s a Chalamet.”

He folds his hands together in front of himself.“Well, I think you’ll be very happy together.”

“You do?”I raise an eyebrow.“Is this where I’m supposed to apologize for that?”

A snort.“No.”The hands slide into his pockets.“But perhaps I should.”

My neck straightens itself abruptly, and I can only blink in reply.

I see his hands clench slightly into fists beneath the fabric of his pants.“I suppose it’s been no secret I’ve not been your biggest fan.”I smirk but remain silent.“I see it as part of my job to keep my clients protected, and in Tim’s case, it’s doubly important to me.He has wonderful parents, but I have thought of him rather like a son—an enormously talented son who really _can_ be the greatest actor of his generation if no one derails him, manipulates or damages him.”When my face darkens, he holds up a palm.“I am starting to realize now that won’t be you.”

“ _Starting_ to?”

“You could’ve stayed where you were, ignored my directives and just called him, waited to see if his unrest would pass. You could’ve told me you had a photo shoot, two interviews, and a meeting with the director of your new film lined up in the next few days that would prevent you from leaving.”

“How did you know that?Tim doesn’t even know about the meeting and the shoot because I just got the call about them.”

He just gives me a look that screams _get serious, kid_.“My point is getting on a plane within an hour of my call is the last and least attractive option you had available to you.”

I won’t even ask how he knows that my flight was the first one out of LaGuardia today.“Not to me.To me, it was the _only_ option.”

“Indeed.Hence my apologies.”

He collects his coat and black leather messenger bag.“I’m heading to London in a few hours.Tell Tim I said goodbye.He knows how to reach me if anything comes up.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?”He looks over his shoulder at me.“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I am now.”

“What if Tim needs something?”

“He’s got what he needs.”He gives me a firm nod.“Goodbye, Mr. Hammer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not familiar with Sam the Eagle? Take a look at this and tell me that’s not Brian’s default expression: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/a6/88/9d/a6889d05e8d9bde4a7b679d2de344dec.jpg
> 
> In truth, I know nothing of Mr. Swardstrom, save the unreadable face and schoolmarm stance I’ve seen him display in pictures. I am guessing, however, he must be a decent and trustworthy man, or the Chalamets would never have allowed him to guide their son’s career. I’m pretty sure Nicole would cut a bitch who didn’t do right by her son [and, of course, we all have learned that Pauline is willing to barbecue testicles, so… :) ]
> 
> The article that had a declaration of Tim as “fey” is this one from Vulture: https://www.vulture.com/2018/10/timothe-chalamet-is-the-perfect-movie-star-for-2018.html. Overall, the article evaluates him as a new direction for leading men in this era, which I fervently hope is the case!
> 
> Frank Herbert is the author of Dune.
> 
> PLEASE TALK TO ME! If you're one of the five people who've actually wanted to read this, please tell me what you think!


End file.
